Love On Call

by Radclyffe

  “Oh, absolutely. Every now and then you need an easy one.”

  “Yeah.” Glenn lightly touched her arm. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

  “You don’t have to do that. You’re going out, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe.” Glenn’s brows drew down. “But I’m certainly not going to let you walk home.”

  “It’s not far, right? Maybe a mile?”

  “That’s about right, but in case you haven’t noticed, it’s dark. Or almost—it will be by the time you get there. You’re not walking home.”

  “It’s not safe?”

  Glenn blew out a breath. “Probably it is, but you’re still not walking home.”

  “Don’t forget, I’ve got city smarts. I’ve been getting around at night by myself for a lot of years,” Mari said. “Besides, you run at night, don’t you?”

  “Yes, and I’ve never had a problem.” Glenn put her hand in the center of Mari’s back, gently directing her out of the stream of foot traffic. “But unless you want me to worry, you’ll take the ride.”

  Mari laughed. “That strikes me as blackmail.”

  Glenn grinned. “Possibly.”

  “Thank you,” Mari said, aware of the press of Glenn’s fingers along the edge of her scapula, the tiny points dissolving the terrible distance she’d felt earlier. “I’d appreciate a ride, then.”

  “Good. That’s better.”

  In minutes Glenn pulled to the curb in front of Mari’s apartment. As Mari was about to say good night, she regretted her decision not to go out with everyone after the game. Reminding herself of all the reasons why she had decided to pass, she pushed open the door and stepped out. “Thanks again.”

  “Don’t forget the barbecue tomorrow. Do you need a ride?”

  “No,” Mari said, wishing for a second that she did. “Carrie is showing me around tomorrow, and I’ll be going over with her.”

  Glenn nodded. “Have fun then.”

  Mari held the door open for a second, searching for something to say and discarding everything. She’d made the rules and wished she wasn’t so sure of them. “’Night.”

  Glenn’s gaze traveled over Mari’s face, warming her skin and making her heart race.

  “’Night, Mari.”

  *

  Glenn waited until Mari was inside before pulling away. She drove to the next corner but instead of turning left toward Bottoms Up, she turned right, and five minutes later pulled into the lot behind the hospital. In the locker room, she stripped out of her dusty softball clothes and crammed them into her gym bag, pulled clean scrubs from her locker, and turned on the shower full force. With steaming water sluicing over her head and shoulders, she braced both forearms on the shower wall and closed her eyes. With nothing but silence to focus on, her thoughts were all of Mari and what Mari had told her about the last year. Her hands closed into fists and the muscles in her shoulders bunched. She hated thinking about what Mari had endured with her illness and her family’s rejection, and she hated even more imagining the uncertainty she lived with every day. She hated not being able to do a damn thing about it, and she could only imagine what the waiting must be like for Mari. She was so fucking tired of senseless waste, of cruelty and the fickleness of life. And she ought to know by now she couldn’t change a goddamned thing.

  Straightening, pushing the anger deep down inside, she rubbed her hands over her face and switched the water to cold. The shock against her heated skin jolted through her like a rifle crack. Her mind cleared and she accepted that reality was often unfair and inexplicable. Life, her life at least, was a battlefield, and she knew what she needed to do.

  She pulled on scrubs, toweled her hair dry, and went down to the ER. Bruce manned the desk.

  “I didn’t know you were working tonight,” he said, sounding not the least bit surprised to see her.

  “I’m not, officially.”

  “It’s Friday night, though. Should have known.” He gestured at the board, which was half full of names already. “In another hour we’ll really be able to use you.”

  “Thought I’d check in on the student. Where is she?”

  He grinned. “In six with an earache. Three-year-old.”

  High-pitched screaming alternating with heartfelt sobs emanated down the hall from the direction he indicated.

  “Oh, boy,” Glenn said. “My favorite thing. Holding down a thrashing, inconsolable child to look in their ears.”

  Bruce laughed. “Uh-huh.”

  “If I don’t come back in half an hour, send help.”

  “Oh no—you’re on your own, Doc.”

  All medics in the field were Doc, and as Glenn headed off to give her student some backup, she was grateful for anything—even a screaming three-year-old with an earache—to dull the weight of helplessness sitting on her chest.

  Chapter Seventeen

  A little before four in the morning, Flann pulled into the drive beside the schoolhouse her great-grandfather had attended and parked behind Abby’s car. Before Abby came to town and into her life, Flann would’ve bunked the rest of the night in an on-call room reserved for docs waiting for babies to be born or for the OR to get ready for an emergency case. After a few hours of semi-sleep, she’d grab a quick breakfast in the cafeteria, shower in the surgeons’ locker room, and start her day again without giving the world outside the hospital a thought. There were times when she didn’t get home for a couple of days. She’d never really minded, before Abby. But everything was different now.

  Now the chance to slip into her own bed for forty-five minutes, to slide her arm around Abby’s waist and press against her back, to cradle her face in Abby’s hair and breathe her scent, was worth every second of the rushed trip home from the Rivers and back. Maybe Abby would wake up and turn to her with a murmur of welcome and a soft kiss, and they’d have a minute or two or ten, enough time for her to feel Abby’s heart quicken as she stroked her, hear Abby’s low moan as she teased her. A precious minute to feel Abby turn into her with a muffled cry as she exploded. Oh yeah. A few minutes with Abby was everything.

  Flann bounded up the front steps and slowed when she saw the inner door was open, with just the screen keeping out the bugs and the night. Abby tended to lock up at night—city habit, and like most doctors, she was a creature of habit. Flann frowned, wondering why Abby had forgotten to close up. She eased the screen open as quietly as she could, took two steps inside, and stopped. The sun was just rising, and dim dawn light illuminated the single big room with the living area in front and kitchen in the rear. Blake sprawled in the corner of the big sofa, his head angled in an unnatural position that was going to hurt when he woke up.

  “Hey,” Flann whispered, moving closer.

  “Hey.” Blake sprang upright, shot a hand through his tousled hair, and stared at her.

  “Too hot in the loft to sleep?” Flann asked.

  “Wasn’t so bad.”

  “Okay.” Flann thought about Abby behind the bedroom door down the hall. Her stomach still quivered with thoughts of warm flesh and hungry kisses. She looked at Blake. “Something going on?”

  “Can I talk to you?”

  “Sure. Want to take a walk so we don’t wake your mom?”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  Flann turned around, walked back outside, down the short walk, and out the picket fence. Every time she saw that fence she smiled. Yep, she had the picket fence and soon she’d have the wife, officially, and one kid and maybe another one day soon. Nothing she’d ever wanted, and all that mattered to her.

  “Tough case?” Blake asked as they walked toward the center of the village.

  “Perforated diverticulum—you know what that is?”

  “Yes, it’s an outpouching of the colon, a thinning of the muscle layer, which can become inflamed and sometimes rupture. Sort of like an appendix.”

  Flann laughed. “Very good. You’ve been studying.”

  “Some animals get them too.”

  “I didn’t realize t
hat. I’d think with their diet it wouldn’t be as common.”

  “It isn’t. Dogs get it pretty often. Volvulus and other malrotations of the intestine are more common in ruminants, because of the extra stomachs.”

  “Uh-huh.” Flann waved to the daughter of a local farmer who beeped the horn as she rattled by in an old pickup truck loaded down with hay. “Feels like I could use an extra stomach this morning. I’m starving. Think we should pick up some breakfast for your mom?”

  “The café will be open any minute,” Blake said, a hopeful note in his voice.

  “We’ll head that way, then.” Flann figured the ten-minute walk would clear the last of the churning arousal from her system and give him a chance to get to the point. A minute passed in silence.

  “I want to have my top surgery before school starts. Will you do it this summer?”

  Oh, boy. For one second, Flann wanted to punt. Let Abby make the decision. But Blake hadn’t asked Abby, he’d asked her. They’d have to talk, the three of them, but for right now, she was the one he’d chosen. “Let’s back up a couple steps, okay?”

  His shoulder stiffened, as if he expected a rejection, but he nodded.

  “First off, we’re family now. Some people would say you ought to have a different surgeon because of that.”

  “Why?”

  “’Cause maybe my judgment will be off because you’re extra-special to me, and my focus will be split worrying about you instead of doing my job.”

  “Will it?”

  “No.”

  “Okay. It’s not illegal or anything. You can’t get in trouble?”

  “No, I can’t. And just so you know, if I do it, I’ll get Glenn to assist. You couldn’t have a better team.”

  Blake nodded seriously. “I know that.”

  “Okay. So, you’ve read about it, right?”

  “Lots of times, and I’ve read blogs, and I’ve seen what it looks like,” Blake said all in a rush.

  “What do you mean? You’ve seen what it looks like?”

  “On YouTube, guys have documented their surgeries. You know, before and right after when the bandages first come off, and then when it’s all healed.”

  “You realize there’s more than one way to do the surgery, and everybody heals differently. You might not look at all like any of those guys.”

  “I know. And you have to look at me to decide how to make the incisions.”

  “That’s right.”

  “I know all that. I know about the scars.”

  “I have to say this, okay,” Flann said, halting on the corner across from the café. “It’s part of what I have to do as your surgeon, not because I don’t trust you or believe in you. Do you understand?”

  Blake shoved his hands in the pockets of his baggy basketball shorts and looked her in the eye. “Okay. I get it. Go ahead.”

  “Surgery isn’t like the drugs. If you stop them now, some of the physical changes in your body would be permanent, but a lot of them would go away eventually.” Flann waited, let her words sink in.

  “I know.”

  “This isn’t like that. There’s no going back, Blake. Once the breast tissue’s gone, it is gone.”

  “I’m sure. I’ve always been sure.”

  Flann nodded. “I know. And you know what else I know?”

  “What?” Blake whispered, a shimmer of tears glistening on his lashes.

  “Your mom is sure too. You have to talk to her about this before we schedule anything. You’re a minor, and she’s your mom.” Flann grinned. “And she’s sorta the head of this household.”

  Blake laughed. “We’ve already talked about it before, some. I’ll talk to her right away.”

  “Good. So what do you want to know?” Flann asked as they sprinted across the street.

  “Will I have to stay in the hospital?”

  “No, you can go home soon as you’re awake from surgery. It’ll take me, oh, an hour or so, but I can let you know for sure on that when I examine you.”

  “Everyone will know, won’t they.”

  Flann blew out a breath, her hand on the door to the café. “Probably some. Everyone who works with me in the office and in the OR will know. A few people will probably mention it to someone, but I don’t think it’ll become town news.”

  “Okay.”

  “Come on.” Flann pulled open the door and they waited in silence in the small room smelling of sugar and fresh dough, behind a handful of early risers at the glass-fronted counter filled with out-of-this-world concoctions. Several people greeted them in passing, giving Blake a smile or a guarded once-over. Curiosity. Small towners didn’t have a lot to talk about except the weather, births, deaths, money, and who was cheating on who. Come to think of it, that was probably the same all over. And then there were the newcomers to speculate about. Presley, Abby, and Blake were all still newcomers.

  “Has anybody ever had it done before?” Blake asked as they started home with two brown paper sacks filled with bits of heaven. “Here?”

  “No, not someone who’s transitioning like you, but the procedure, sure. About fifty percent of…” She paused, wanting to get this right. “Fifty percent of cis guys have what we call gynecomastia—their breasts develop at puberty. Too many hormones of all kinds floating around. Usually it’s pretty temporary, although not temporary enough for most of them. But if it doesn’t resolve by your age, it probably won’t. Surgery is an option then.”

  “Man, that sucks.” Blake sounded both sympathetic and a little as if he was glad to hear about kindred sufferers.

  “Yeah, they pretty much think so too. So I’ve had plenty of practice doing the procedure, although in a lot of places the plastics guys do it. I don’t know why, it’s not that complicated.” Flann grinned and Blake laughed.

  “Can I go back to work right away?” Blake asked. “I don’t want to miss any time in the ER or at Dr. Valentine’s, depending on when you schedule it.”

  “Five days restricted movement and three weeks limited strenuous activity. That means no lifting at all.”

  Blake winced. “Okay.”

  “I mean it. If you bleed, it’ll be a real pain in the ass for both of us. And your healing will be delayed. That’s the biggest problem with guys your age, keeping you from thinking you’re supermen.”

  Blake shot her a look. “Bet it’s not just the guys. Remember way back when you were sixteen?”

  “Smart-ass.” Flann laughed.

  “When?”

  “Let’s talk to your mom first, okay? And then I’ll look at my schedule and give you some dates and you can decide. We want to work it so you’re in good shape for the wedding.”

  “Huh? You mean Harper and Presley?” Blake looked puzzled. “I’m not going to do anything except sit there.”

  “Oh, ah…” Crap, she’d forgotten already she and Abby hadn’t told him about their plans for a wedding. Discussed it with him.

  “What?”

  This time she did punt. “Let’s wait till we get home and we’ll wake up your mom. Good thing we got her two of those apple fritters.”

  *

  At ten minutes to nine, Mari settled on the wide wooden steps of the wraparound porch of the grand mansion that had once been a family home and was now home to many. Home to her. She sipped her double espresso and watched a couple of teens ride by on bicycles, pedaling with no hands and debating some sports score. While she listened to the sounds of a summer Saturday morning—a lawnmower rumbling somewhere nearby, the distant honk of a horn, the excited barking of a dog down the street—she mused on how different this Saturday was from the others she’d spent here. She had plans. Her entire day was filled with things to do, people she would be spending time with. A hospital barbecue. That was definitely a first. She was really looking forward to it and admitted that was partly because she’d be seeing Glenn. They could be friends—they already were. And she didn’t have to feel guilty about how much she enjoyed just being with her. So she’d let herself enjoy
the little secret thrill of anticipation.

  Carrie pulled to the curb in a car that looked like a bug escaped from some automotive fun house. The little red convertible with white stripes was the size of a beanbag and ridiculously cute.

  “What is that?” Mari asked, walking down the sidewalk.

  “Isn’t it just adorable?” Carrie grinned and actually patted the dashboard. “It’s a Mini Cooper. My present to myself. It’s so much fun to drive and really easy to park, and I get lots of looks.”

  Mari laughed and slipped into the passenger seat. “I bet you do.”

  Carrie’s hair was down and slightly tangled from the open air drive. She wore a tank top and cut-off denim shorts. Her arms and legs were tanned, her eyes sparkling, and she was definitely lookable. The car probably wasn’t necessary to get her a little attention.

  “I thought we’d start at my place—well, my new place.” Carrie pulled away from the curb, did a neat U-turn, and headed right on Main Street. “Then we’ll head to the farm for food and Presley’s war meeting.”

  “Are you sure I’m not crashing a private thing?” Mari asked.

  “Definitely not. Not to worry.”

  Carrie whipped around a corner, and within a minute, they’d left the village limits and were in the heart of farmland. Fields of corn and other green things stretched on either side of the road for what looked like forever in every direction. Every few minutes they’d pass a narrow dirt road leading through the fields, far bigger and longer than an ordinary driveway, to a cluster of barns and a farmhouse centered in the midst of the fields.

  “Gorgeous, isn’t it?” Carrie said.

  “It’s certainly beautiful. You don’t mind living so far from everything?”

  Carrie laughed. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? And me being a city kid too. When you get home at night, there’s just you and the animals and…peace. It’s never really quiet, but not the noise of other people. I never realized that I might like being away from it all until I actually was. I’m always glad to get to the hospital, or the ball field, or somewhere else with friends, but there’s something really special about your own little piece of the world.”